


Nabbed

by fajrdrako



Category: Torchwood
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:27:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28011633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fajrdrako/pseuds/fajrdrako
Summary: Theft and sex combine well.
Relationships: Lisa Hallett/Ianto Jones
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	Nabbed

Ianto met Lisa Hallett right after he stole her laptop.

As thefts go, it wasn't entirely a success. The laptop was an expensive item in a Japanese lacquered case, propped beside her chair in the outdoor cafe. Ianto watched it and its owner carefully. He noticed the way she spoke into her cell phone, the way she frowned when she didn't like what she heard on the other end. She was cute. Well: he mustn't let that distract him. It wasn't as if they were going to be dating anytime soon. All he wanted was her laptop and the money it would bring.

When she went to the counter to buy another cappuccino, she turned her back on the chair and the laptop for a moment. Ianto picked it up as if it were his, and kept on walking. No one noticed. No one cared.

He got maybe two hundred feet down the road, walking with a purposeful step. Important not to bring attention to himself. If he were casual enough, he'd be home free.

Then there was the sharp jab of a gun-barrel in his ribs, a hand like steel gripping his bicep, and her forceful voice at his ear: "Drop that and you're dead."

He stopped - he hadn't much choice. Her grip was painful. Her tone underscored that the weapon meant business. He said, "Is that a toy gun? London police take a dim view of people waving real ones in public."

She said, "Don't look round. Cross the street. Now! Turn right, there. Keep going." The gun pressed harder into his side as they walked.

"Are you licensed to kill? Some sort of super-copper?"

"Do I look like one?"

"I don't know. You told me not to look at you."

"Smart boy. I assure you, I'm no copper. You're not so lucky as that. I'm something much worse."

Ianto felt a sudden excitement. Not fear; he'd been living with fear for some time now, and knew it so well it had lost its power over him. This was something different. Anticipation. Curiosity. Something unusual and unexpected was happening to him. It was a thrill not unlike that of drugs, sex, or rock-climbing.

"If you aren't arresting me, where are we going?" he asked.

"To my car. I'm not arresting you, I'm kidnapping you. Stop here." The gun poked his ribs, and Ianto stopped walking. He managed to get a glimpse of her by turning his head slightly. Yes, it was the woman who owned the laptop, the well-dressed black girl. He hoped he was impressing her with his calm demeanour. He saw her efficiently unlock the door of the car beside them, one-handed - was she ambidextrous? He saw her booted foot kick the door wide open. "Put the case in the back seat. Yes. Now, hands on your head. Good boy. Now get in."

Ianto got into the passenger seat with as much grace as he could manage, his hands still on his head. Was she working for the mob? Maybe they'd hire him on, too. He'd heard the money was good, though the life expectancy was short and the benefits few. Still. His current prospects didn't look much better.

She got into the driver's seat, and pushed the button which locked all the doors. There was a small box with a screen on the dash, rather like a taxi meter, except that it had a complex touch-screen. Ianto, who was fascinated by computers, had never seen anything like it. The woman touched a few buttons, then took his wrist to guide it. "Press your thumb here." He did, and the screen changed into a flurry of pixels that settled into an image of his face, a photo taken in Cardiff a couple of years ago. "Right: back on your head now." She turned the screen so she could read it, and he couldn't. He waited. She'd said she wasn't a cop. Who was she trying to fool?

She finished reading, snapped off the screen, and pushed the box out of the way, holding the gun firmly. "You can look at me now, Welsh boy. Lower your hands, if you like. No sudden moves."

He lowered his hands stiffly, and put them in his lap. She was as cute as his first impression, hardly older than he was. She looked back at him with a somewhat predatory smile. He was tempted to smile in return. She didn't look dangerous, but that was a dangerous gun, and she had a dangerous grip. "Don't bother telling me your name," she said. "Ianto Jones: twenty years old, one conviction, and a shitload of trouble. I have a few questions for you, Ianto Jones, and if you lie, I'll know, and you'll end up in a UNIT cell if not the morgue. If you tell the truth, I might give you the biggest break of your lifetime. First: who hired you to steal my laptop?"

"Nobody."

Her eyes narrowed.

"No, really, nobody. I saw it there. I thought it looked valuable. You turned away. So..."

"Shit!" she said fiercely. She hit the steering wheel hard enough for him to feel the car jolt. "Bugger, bugger, bugger."

Ianto waited patiently. He knew better than to disturb an angry girl with a gun. She was quite possibly mentally unstable.

She said, "You a free-lancer?"

He shrugged, which made her raise and aim the gun. "I didn't hear that answer, Welsh boy. Who do you work for?"

"Nobody."

"New in town?"

"I came to London looking for a job. There aren't any. So... I make do."

"Living on the streets?"

"Squatting."

"Begging? Dealing dope? Stealing what isn't nailed down?"

He nodded cautiously. If she'd admitted to working for the law, he'd have thought she was setting him up for some undercover operation. As it was, he suspected she had an agenda of her own.

"Do you believe in aliens?"

So he was right with the first guess: she was a nutter. Since she was a nutter with a gun and a bossy attitude, he had to be careful. It was unusual for a fruitcake to be so gorgeous. "Little green men? No."

"Or big ones." She bit her lip thoughtfully.

"If there were aliens here, we'd know it," said Ianto gently. "They'd be invading us and pushing us around. Or setting up shop and trying to sell us things."

She nodded. "Ever heard of Vera's Bramble Jelly?" Ianto shook his head, but she went on talking. "That's alien owned. And Bubble Shock - you know, the drink company? We're keeping our eye on them." She leaned back, gun forgotten on her lap. "This thing, with my laptop? I thought someone hired you to steal it. Top secret stuff, you know. Well, actually, fake top secrets that we thought up at the pub the other night to make it look good. I thought you might lead me to... someone we're trying to catch. And instead you're just an idiot who wanted something to fence for a few quid." She looked at him with one of those adorable frowns. "Now what am I going to do with you?"

"Let me go?" Ianto did his best impression of a disarming smile.

"No way!"

"Why not?"

"Because I can find better uses for you. Ever thought of being an archivist?"

"A what? They work in libraries, don't they?"

"D'you even know how to read, Einstein?"

"In several languages," he said huffily.

"English, Welsh and pig Latin? No, don't answer. Who's the Prime Minister of Cambodia?"

"Hun Sen."

"What is the twenty-fifth prime number?"

"Ninety-seven."

"Who's the MP for Flydale North?"

"Harriet Jones."

"Who wrote _De chiromantia_?"

"Michael Scot. What does he have to do with anything? He died in 1232."

"What country is Kyzyl in?"

"Tuva."

"What's the last word of the Vulgate?"

"Omnibus."

"Jesus," she said. "Will you marry me?"

"Not unless you put down the gun."

She laughed. "Right, then. Are there any questions you can't answer?"

"Many."

"For instance?"

"I don't know your name."

"You can call me Lisa." There was a pause. She was thinking so hard he fancied he could hear her neurons churning.

"You don't need a job, Welsh boy," she said. "You need a quiz show with big prizes. Or go back to Oxford where you belong. But I'll offer you a job anyway."

"Let me guess," he said. "You're a journalist."

"Meep! Wrong."

"Headhunter for Encyclopedia Britannica?"

"Too boring. Way better than that. What were you arrested for?"

"Shoplifting."

She raised her eyebrow. "What did you learn from that?"

"From that, I learned not to be caught."

"Master criminal, trivia genius, sex on legs. What other talents do you have?"

"I make fantastic coffee."

"Fuck."

"Try me."

"I might.

The silence became electrified. She took a deep breath and said, "You on the game?"

"Sorry?"

"Selling your pretty body?"

"No," he said, a little too quickly. He'd considered it, on a few of those hungry nights.

"You're homeless in London, with a record and a body like sin. You're not exactly a huge success as a thief, no offense intended, so I figured you've been selling yourself."

Ianto said huffily, "I'm not that desperate. What makes you think I'm on my own?"

"Aren't you?"

"Well... yes."

"Lucky guess, then. I'm not judging you. Just don't want to risk any nasty diseases when I take you home."

"So," he said casually, "You plan to rape me as well as kidnap me?" He glanced at her sideways, and she laughed.

"Would I have to rape you, then?"

The silence stretched so thin it was brittle.

"No," said Ianto. His voice rasped a little. He didn't care.

"No," whispered Lisa. "I wouldn't rape you. But I might seduce you. Are you straight?"

"Not entirely." He wasn't usually so honest, but it seemed impossible to be anything else with this strange, outrageous woman. "That a problem?"

"Not really." She smiled. "Actually, it's kind of hot. Kind of very, very hot."

"Are you really offering me a job? Or do you just need a brainy houseboy with kinks?"

"It's a real job. Potentially." She looked at her hands, the gun still lying under them. "Not myself, I don't work in personnel, but I happen to know there's an opening for an archivist and they wouldn't mind about you being an thief as long as you're willing to steal for us instead of yourself. The salary is good. If I put in a word for you, you're a shoo-in. It doesn't matter that you don't believe in extraterrestrial beings. A lot of us didn't, at first. And whatever the work is, it's never boring."

Ianto felt a strange jolt at the base of his throat. The biggest break of your lifetime, she had said.

He reached over to touched her face, and she kissed his palm.

"Sometimes it's dangerous," she said. Her breath was warm on his skin.

He reached for her, pulling her close. She fitted into his arms, strong and vigorous and sweet-smelling. He kissed her, felt her melt, and felt himself respond. He'd never felt quite like this before: confident and off-balance at the same time.

"Lisa...?" he whispered.

"Lisa Hallett," she said. "I work for an outfit called..." She kissed him again, deeply. He stroked her neck, where her skin was soft and warm. He liked kissing, and knew that he was good at it, but he'd never had a kiss affect him like this.

"Called - what?" he said, dizzy with curiosity and lust and excitement.

"Torchwood."

"Take me home," he said.

She grinned. "You're mine, Welsh boy. Mine to keep."

As thefts go, it ended his thieving career.

The next day, Ianto was hired by Torchwood.

\- - -

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 2009.03.31 on [Fajrdrako's Livejournal page](https://fajrdrako.livejournal.com/1126075.html)


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